


Only the One

by EbonyKnight



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9490928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbonyKnight/pseuds/EbonyKnight
Summary: Sally Donovan is working late and sees something that, no matter how much she might wish it, she will never be able to unsee. Contains fluff. Lots of fluff and not a whole lot else.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. More's the pity. 
> 
> Spending the day working my way through the Sherlock DVDs with a friend, and this happened. No spoilers. Or plot. Just fluff.
> 
> Beta'd by RomanyWalker, dear friend and co-conspirator in my Sherstrade ramblings.
> 
> Feedback is welcome :)

_...the suspect pushed DI Lestrade down the stairs and escaped through the bathroom window onto the garage roof. I instructed DC Morrison to call for medical assistance and pursued the suspect. He left the property in the direction of Hardwick Street. I radioed DS Jackson and relayed his movements and took the alleyway linking Chatsworth Avenue and Hardwick Street and came out as the suspect passed. I tackled him to the ground and was restraining him when DS Jackson arrived on the scene—_

The sound of a door opening caught Sally’s attention, distracting her from the report she was writing; as far as she'd been aware, she was the only one left of their floor, the hour being as late as it was on a Friday evening. Curious, she looked up from the computer screen in time to see none other than Sherlock Holmes, the freak of Baker Street, leaving Lestrade’s office. He pulled the door closed and ran a hand through his messy hair, and Sally could see that his shirt was un-tucked, even from across the office. 

She realised that he would have to walk past her workstation on his way out; after the day she’d had, between Lestrade being pushed down a flight of stairs and straining her ankle tackling the suspect, she was in absolutely no mood to be ridiculed by the man. She slouched down in her chair, hoping that the desk divider would hide her, and waited for him to leave. As he passed, Sally could only see the top of his body but something was definitely off: not only was his hair an absolute mess, more so than normal, but the collar of his purple shirt was sticking up on one side and the uppermost buttons were in the wrong holes. In years gone by she'd seen him strung out on drugs, barely holding it together, and he had always, _always_ , been perfectly dressed, even if he was in desperate need of a shower and shave. 

Once Holmes was out of sight, Sally stood up and crossed the room towards Lestrade’s office as quickly as should could with her dodgy ankle. She knocked perfunctorily on the door and pushed it open without waiting for a response. Inside she found Lestrade bent over, picking up sheets of loose paper from the floor. Suspicion already aroused, Sally was on the lookout for anything off and immediately noticed that her boss’s shirt was un-tucked, his tie was hanging from the filing cabinet, and the usually ordered piles of files were in complete disarray, with several littering the floor. Sherlock Holmes she was not, but she _had_ made detective sergeant by thirty and was no idiot. “Please, for the love of all that’s holy, tell me that this isn’t what it looks like,” she implored, mind relentlessly providing images to fill the blanks in her knowledge. 

“What are you still doing here?” Lestrade asked, surprised, standing up straight with a sheaf of papers in one hand. His voice was hoarse and no amount of effort would stop Sally’s mind for supplying possible reasons for it. 

“Oh, didn’t you hear? My boss got shoved down a flight of stairs today: generates a bit of paperwork, that,” Sally replied, watching closely as Lestrade put the papers down on his desk. “Please, please tell me that you’re not shagging Sherlock Holmes.”

“I, ah, well, you see…”

Sally watched, disbelieving, as her boss shuffled uncomfortably, a dark flush creeping up his neck, trying desperately to come up with a reasonable explanation. “You are, aren’t you?”

Lestrade deflated and sat down carefully, shifting in his seat. Sally sincerely hoped that it was because he was sore from being pushed down a flight of stairs and nothing less savoury. “Yeah, actually. Not for long and not really sure where it’s going, but we’re involved. This gonna be a problem?”

“Jesus, you and Sherlock Holmes,” Sally replied, not wanting to believe what she was seeing and hearing. It had taken months of work for her and Lestrade to get their relationship back to where it had been before the mess with Holmes and Moriarty, and she liked to think that they were now friends as well as colleagues. Sherlock Holmes was cold and manipulative, used people with little regard for the consequences, and she had no doubt that Lestrade would get hurt, but he was an adult and she would respect his decision. “What was he even doing here? Other than…well,” she smirked. “Just glad I didn’t come in here five minutes earlier or I’d have been traumatised for life!”

Lestrade’s face flushed red but he smiled, and Sally was pleased to see it. “You know he’s got a brother with fingers in every pie in London? Well, he heard about paramedics being called out for me and told Sherlock.”

“So he came over to kiss it better, eh?” Sally covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to laugh outright. “That’s so sweet.”

“Less of it, you,” Lestrade replied, but he was grinning. “Seriously, Sal, you going to be okay with this?”

“Yeah. Yeah, course I will, as long as you don’t expect me to like him.”

Lestrade snorted and stood up. “Come on, after the day we’ve had I reckon it’s home time. That report’ll wait until Monday. Boss’s orders.”

“If you insist,” Sally replied, standing carefully to avoid upsetting her ankle. She looked at Lestrade, dishevelled and rumpled and happier than she had seen him in a very long time. “You might want to tidy yourself up before you leave, though. People will talk if we walk out of here with you looking like that.”

She left Lestrade’s office and made for her own work station, saving her report and shutting the computer down. For all that Holmes was a bastard of the very highest order, if he could make her boss and friend smile like that, she was prepared to give him a chance. Only the one, mind.


End file.
